


Permission to Fly

by GenevieveOHara



Series: Permission to Fly [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cargument, Character Death, Crying, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Major Character Injury, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 16:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18253571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenevieveOHara/pseuds/GenevieveOHara
Summary: Steve calls Danny knowing Danny couldn't do anything.  He calls anyways.  He needs to hear Danny's voice.  He needs to say sorry.  He needs to break a promise.





	Permission to Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, this was hard. Maybe there will be a chapter two... maybe not.

The phone was slick and his numb fingers had to fumble for a grip before he felt the phone slide out of his pocket.  He blindly speed dialed. He could hear the line ringing as he forced himself to lift the phone to his head. Pain seared in his side and he bit back a sob.

“Hello?” Danny’s voice answered.  God, how could he do this. “Steve?  That you?”

“Hh…” Steve’s throat closed.  He coughed. 

“Steve?” 

“Hey, Danno,” He managed.  He could hear his own voice.  Weak and hoarse. 

“McGarrett?  Steve? You’re breaking up,” Danny called through the phone.  His voice was loud and clear. The call wasn’t breaking up. Steve was.

“Danno,” Steve tried again.  “‘eed help.”

Steve looked down and groaned again.  He knew Danny wouldn’t be able to help him.  No one could help him now. 

“Steve?!  What’s going on?  Where are you?!” Danny panicked.

“Danno,” Steve said again.  The blue sky above him was shifty and dark dots flickered in and out of his vision.

“Steven!” Danny yelled and pulled Steve out of his stupor.  “You need to tell me where you are.”

Steve could hear Danny on the verge of panicking.  

“Lou, track Steve’s phone,” Danny’s muffled voice said. “I don’t know…. Bad.”

“Danny, sorry,” Steve said.  He could feel sticky, warm blood oozing through his fingers held over his side.

“No, Steve!” Danny cried.  “Steve!?”

“Hmm?” He closed his eyes.

“You need to tell us where you are,” Danny coaxed.

“Dunno,” Steve said.  “Chinatown?”

“What happened?” Danny asked.  Steve focused on breathing through the pain.

“‘M sorry, Danno,” Steve said.

“It’s ok, Steve.  You have to tell me what happened,” Danny croaked through the phone.

“Stabbed,” Steve said quietly.  

“Fuck!” He could hear Danny swear from the other side.  “Lou, send a bus!”

“Steve?” Danny asked.  “I’m on my way, but you need to stay awake!”

“‘K, Danny,” Steve said.  His body was going numb. He was cold and tired.  His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier with each blink.  Blood loss. Shock. Pain.

“How did you get stabbed on your day off?” Danny sighed.

“Mugger,” Steve said.

“You were mugged?”

“Not.. me,” Steve choked out as he pressed harder on the wound.  Tears streamed down his face and he bit his lip.

“Did you chase another mugger?  What have I told you about that?!” Danny chastised.

“Sorry,” Steve huffed out.  His peripheral vision was blurry.  “Danno?”

“Yeah, babe?” Danny’s voice cracked.

“Hurry,” Steve said.  His voice was weak. He didn’t want to die.  Maybe if Danny showed up he wouldn’t die. His symptoms said otherwise.

“Ok, babe, I’m hurrying,” Danny said.  Steve could hear the distant squeal of tires on asphalt and sirens.

“Danny, I…” Steve breathed, “I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Mary…” Steve sobbed softly.  “Look after ‘er.”

“No! Steven!” Danny protested.  “I’m… no...That’s your job!”

“Please?” Steve asked weakly.

“I…” Danny’s throat closed.  “I won’t have to, Steve! You’re going to be fine!”

Steve glanced down at his side.  Blood had begun pooling on the dirty concrete.  He could see the rivulets of blood oozing between his fingers.  It was too late. He’d seen this in the Navy before. This amount of blood loss meant organs or arteries were hit.  Steve could feel his body betraying him with every breath. His vision blurred and darkened, only to be distorted by the fresh tears leaking from his eyes.

“You choose now?” He panted out.  His lips felt heavy and his tongue felt too large.

“Now?” Danny questioned nervously.

“Optimism…” Steve slurred.

“I thought I’d give it a go.”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed.  God he was tired. Cold, tired, numb, and so, so sorry.

“Steve!”  Danny yelled from the phone which Steve let slide to the ground.

“Steven!” His voice cracked in desperation.

“God damn it, Steve!” Danny slammed his hand down on the camaro’s steering wheel.  The gas pedal wouldn’t go any further and he was taking turns almost on two wheels.

“You can’t die on me now!” Danny yelled and turned into Chinatown.  Lou directed him to the location where Steve’s phone was pinging from.  

Danny ran into the alleyway and saw Steve lying prone on the dirty ground, blood pooling around his body.

“Fuck! Steve!” Danny swore and roughly dropped to his knees, ignoring the pain in his kneecaps and the sickly wet feeling of Steve’s blood soaking into his trousers.

With shaking fingers he reached out and checked for the flutter of a pulse on Steve’s neck.  

“No!” He cried and looked down the alleyway.  “Help! Somebody help!”

He called out for help and dragged Steve so he lay completely flat on his back.  He positioned his hands and pressed hard. The TV shows and movies always got it wrong.  Straight arms, compressions of at least two inches, a hundred compressions a minute, rescue breaths only became important if compressions could be done simultaneously.

‘Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Stayin Alive, Stayin Alive’ ran over and over in Danny’s mind as he did his compressions.  He ignored the crack of one of Steve’s ribs breaking. He ignored the blood that was starting to cover his palms and fingers.  He heard the sirens approaching and felt hope in his chest.

 

“Danny?” Lou approached the blood covered detective nervously.  Danny didn’t acknowledge the man. He just stared at the speckled tile floor.

“Danny, hey,” Lou said gently and sat down in the plastic chair next to Danny.  He placed a hand on Danny’s shoulder and could feel the man shaking.

“Lou?”  The voice was broken and quiet.

“Yeah, man,” Lou assured the younger man.

“Lou…He... I can’t.” Danny broke.  Tears streamed down his face, his nose ran, and he broke.

Lou crouched in front of Danny’s chair and pulled the man into a hug.  He didn’t have to say what happened. Only one thing could have happened to make Danny react like this.

Lou felt the tears prickle in his eyes and start to roll down his face only to be collected in the cotton of Danny’s shirt.  Broken noises tore from Danny and fostered more tears for Lou. This was Steve. McGarrett doesn’t die. He can’t die. He was supposed to outlive them all and die at the age of a hundred and four of a skydiving accident gone wrong or something ridiculous.  He wasn’t supposed to die from a simple stab wound from a mugger in Chinatown.  Yet he did.

Yet he did.  And by doing so, he had broken Danny.  The pair were best friends.  More than that most times, and now it was just Danny.


End file.
